What happened to the Rishi Sunak I knew at school?
But France is already strangled by a bureaucracy that is driving its most talented across the English Channel.
Liam Mullone made the point in a devastating article a couple of weeks back writing that:
‘You cannot lead even the most unambitious life in France without sitting an exam for it. There’s not much incentive to do anything for yourself, either: even if you remain insufficiently prosperous to stay clear of the 75 per cent tax rate, every self-starter who sells their business after ten years owes the state 60 per cent capital gains tax on any profit. Quebec has launched a programme to lure 50,000 French entrepreneurs to its shores, which is a bit like deciding to save 50,000 black rhinos.’
On top of this, France already has generous welfare and pensions provisions; well, generous is not the word. French women spend, on average, 27 years in retirement – yes, 27 years. That’s not a reward for a lifetime’s work, that’s a Steynian Dystopia.
The issue is not so much the principle of long hours, as productivity does not correlate to working hours; rather it is the idea that what should be convention or negotiated within a company needs to be set in stone by authorities, further restricting the economic freedom the country so desperately needs.
Unlike Mr Mullone, I am still teaching my children French, because whatever its declining practical use, it’s a beautiful language that will open them up to a whole new culture and to the country’s great legacy of literature. (Okay, okay, I admit it. The real reason is that I’m a snob, and deep down you just can’t be a proper posho unless you can speak French.)
Much as I love French culture, and long for my next visit, that’s sort of what the place is becoming – a place to visit.
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